


The Mistake

by riththewarluid



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, F/M, Graphic Descriptions of Sex, Meresino
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-04 01:59:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10980984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riththewarluid/pseuds/riththewarluid
Summary: A Winter's Ball brings lonely, hurting people together.





	The Mistake

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by an OTP prompt that got away from me. Lots of references to a multi-chapter Meresino fic I've been outlining for a while but never written, so hopefully that's not too jarring.

A hall ablaze with candles, roaring fires, smiling and shiny faces crowded too close together - everything that made the Winter Ball exciting as a child, and unbearable as an adult. Orsino tugged at the neck of his formal robes, prying the silk from his sweaty skin. The Ball had been a welcome respite from studies, a break from the confines of the Circle, a chance to taste and touch the outside world when he was a young man - now it was all politics, all fake laughs and tight necklines for him. 

Raising his cup of spiced Tevinter wine - only the best for the cream of Kirkwall society - he watched the room from his perch in the corner. He had always been a romantic man at his core, and watching the couples dance hand in hand to the light pluckings of musicians gave his heart a sad, slow flop. It had been so long, so very, very long, since he had held anyone in his arms, felt the warmth of another’s touch, heard gentle declarations of love, grasped and stroked and breathed in golden hair, kissed dark panting lips…

Unbidden, the spicy wine burning through his bloodstream, his gaze swung to the other end of the hall, where Kirkwall’s resident Ice Commander perched. Meredith lounged on a grand chair, almost a throne, her lips pursed and eyes tightly scanning the room. How she managed to look like a weapon even while draped in heavy red velvet was beyond him, but she did. She looked dangerous. Orsino’s eyes flicked over her form, noting the ankles that peeked from the hem of her skirts, the way the dress highlighted the way the smooth skin of her shoulders softened and rounded into her breasts. She looked delicious.

An itch sprang up on his nose, and absentmindedly he dug a fingernail into it. Perhaps it was the heady drink, but he was driven to distraction tonight by Meredith. Perhaps it was because it was on a night like this that they had stolen their first fumbling kiss, behind one of the curtains blocking out the freezing night. The itch moved to his cheek, and his finger followed it. Simpler times, simpler feelings. With a sigh, he dragged his sight from Meredith’s dress for one last lingering peek at her haughty face. Her flinty, wintry eyes were glaring, as usual, but this time… Orsino’s finger stopped its itching and stuck, stupidly, to his face as beads of sweat welled suddenly in his hair line. Those angry eyes were glaring directly at him.  _ Maker’s balls, I’m in trouble now _ . He tried to swallow down the sudden lump in his throat with a large gulp of wine, then coughed loudly as he choked on the drink.  _ Shit. Shit. _ Pressing his sleeve to his lips, he dropped the wine glass onto a table and hastily rushed from the room, ducking into the first darkened hallway he could find and fleeing. Lately he felt like he was always running from Meredith, like the Ice Commander was stalking him into a trap he couldn’t escape from. 

Orsino fumbled with a door and found himself in a shadowy, quiet study. Even this was decorated for the Winter Ball, with ribboned garlands and bunches of greenery strung from the ceiling. “What a waste,” he murmured under his breath, and took a stumbling step forward to lean against the heavy wooden desk that dominated the center of the room. Why decorate a room that wasn’t even being used for the festivities?

Shivering as he bent over the desk, leaning on his forearms, he ran his hands through his hair and tugged once more at his tight collar. Surely no one would care if he relaxed a little bit in here? The constant stress of his position as First Enchanter was eating him alive. His fingers pushed apart the damp silk, freeing the sensitive skin of his neck to the crisp air of the study. Even that was just enough to help clear his wine-clouded mind. He could rest here for a moment, collect his scattered thoughts, rein in his wayward lusts, then say his goodbyes and leave with some poise. 

“This is so like you, finding a dark corner to hide in,” came a sharp voice from behind him, that crawled up his spine like a beetle and caused his skin to shudder. “I should have known you’d run here.” 

Orsino breathed out heavily through his nose, closing his eyes for a brief instant. Of course she came after him. She always did, the bulldog. “Knight-Commander,” he began softly, twisting himself around to face her and keeping his eyes still firmly shut, “I’m tired of playing the game of politics. Not tonight. Please.”

He heard her lick her lips - was she really that close? - before a fingertip touched the exposed pulse of his throat. But it wasn’t her touch that caused him to finally look at her, it was her tone of voice as she said softly, “As am I.” 

That face… Well-loved in the past, thoroughly-hated in the present, was drawn and tense, heavy bags drooped below her eyes, and deep grooves had carved their way passed her lips. Meredith stepped back away from him, her hand falling from his neck, and she jerked her chin upwards under his gaze. This was not the Meredith that Kirkwall saw, the hardened Templar fanatic, but the Meredith he had known as a child, the Meredith he had loved, the Meredith he hadn’t seen in decades. This Meredith was still hard, still belligerent and scared and distrusting, but she had trusted  _ him _ , once upon a time. Orsino had nothing to say. What could anyone say to even try to sort through years of anger, fear, hatred, and violence. Knight-Commander Meredith scared him, but this Meredith frightened him to his core. 

“Meredith…” 

She cut him off with a finger pressed to his mouth. “No. This isn’t… This isn’t an apology. We’re too far gone for that. You know this.” Her hard gaze challenged him to speak up. “I’m not interested in making up, or going back. We have our jobs now, you and I.” 

Orsino nodded slightly. “Duty first,” he replied, his lips twisting. She gave a humorless chuckle in agreement, before looking above him. 

“Do you remember a story you once told me, when we were young?” She gestured to a bunch of elfroot and hollyhock that hung above them, tied with bright festive colors. “About young lovers that kiss under “elven holly” destined to be forever entwined?” Her mouth sneered a little bit. “I thought it was bullshit.” 

“It  _ is _ bullshit, Knight-Commander,” he replied, leaning back away from her onto the desk. She towered over him from this angle, but he found he didn’t mind it so much. 

“Is it?” She reached up and grabbed a branch of the prickly leaves and broke it off in her hand. “You’ve been a thorn in my side ever since that first Winter Ball,  _ First Enchanter _ . Ever since you told me that damned story and made me kiss you.” 

“Excuse you. You kissed me first.”

Meredith twirled the holly in her fingers and narrowed her eyes down at him, lips pursed. “So I did.” Her eyes gleamed in the low light, and Orsino felt his throat tighten as she took one predatory step towards him, then another. “So I did.” She pressed the sharp leaves to her lips, pricking the tender skin just enough to make it bloom red. “I wonder, First Enchanter, what that story means for old, jaded politicians, who find themselves alone in a dark room at that same Winter Ball?” 

Orsino’s mind reeled, his palms grew moist against the wood of the desk, his breath shuddered against his lips. “Meredith, what are you doing?” She took another step towards him, and suddenly her dress swirled around his hips, her sneering mouth was curled over his, and her hand was grasping his chin, sharp holly leaves biting into the sensitive skin of his throat. 

“First Enchanter, I thought it was obvious. I’m doing you.” And those lips, red and angry, pressed against his and Orsino was lost to memories and feeling. Meredith’s fingers were wrapped around his throat, her teeth sinking into his lip, her breasts pressed against his thin chest where his heart thumped and fluttered. She tasted harder, bitter like lyrium, softer, tangy like wine - his hands wrapped around her back to remind himself of the strong muscles in her back, the way they corded up her neck and under that glorious hair. It spilled down over his hands, fell over his face and got caught between their sucking kisses, like it used to all those years ago. Orsino’s blood heated, a heavy ache settling in between his hips just as Meredith pushed his head away from her. 

A low growl escaped from her mouth as she forced him further back on the desk, her hands moving to tear open his robes. He hissed as her nails scored his skin, red lines snaking over his chest. Her pleasure was clear as she laughed throatily, hitching up her skirts to climb over him on the desk, pinning him tightly with her heavy weight. God, the woman was so strong. Orsino had always admired the strength of her body, had always delighted in her complete power over him. He smiled as she dug her teeth into his neck. Nearly complete power.

His fingers caught up in her hair, he sent little sparks shooting out of his fingertips across her scalp, skittering through her hair and down the sensitive column of her spine. Her reaction was instant gratification - Meredith mewled against his skin and the gentle prickling of the sparks made her writhe against him through the heavy folds of her skirt. A second wave of sparks raced across her skin down the bodice of her dress, making her groan and buck. 

“Filthy mage,” she gasped, but her insult only made him laugh and pluck at the strings of her bodice until he could cup her breasts in his hands, the nipples hard against the pads of his fingers. Every stroke, every pinch, brought fresh waves of sparks to her skin until her nipples were dark pink with agitation and she was gasping above him. Teasing the unconquerable Meredith had always been a heady rush, especially when it reached the inevitable conclusion. He kept teasing her, pressing and pressing on and on… 

Meredith’s eyes flashed, and Orsino knew at once she had snapped. He barely had enough to prepare himself before she grabbed his wrists in one big hand and slammed them back above his head, snarling before she pressed her mouth to his hungrily, her teeth clacking against his. He shuddered beneath her, knowing full well the pattern of this scene. Her nails sought out his nipple and raked across it, making him arch up against her with a keening cry, before they dragged back up his chest to hold his head in place. “Do. Not. Move.” Each word made his groin tighten and pulse, and with one smooth movement she had reseated herself on him on his face. Her skirts billowed around him, wrapping him in a musky red world, and her sex - her beautiful, glistening sex - descended to his mouth.

She tasted just like he remembered, but she didn’t give him any time to reminisce. Her hips ground down onto his mouth, demanding the attentions of his lips, his teeth, his tongue, attentions that he was happy to provide. Feeling her fingers flex on his wrists, imagining rather than hearing her groans above him, his tongue delved into her. Her taste was so  _ her _ , earthy and salty and more intoxicating than any wine. Her juices coated his tongue, his chin, as he explored every crevice of her. His nose bumped against her, sliding against her clit and he felt her shiver around his tongue. Desperate for that sweet shudder, Orsino began to press up and against her wet skin just as she ground down on him, her slippery clit rolling across the bridge of his nose over and over as he drank in her pleasure. 

Meredith’s nails pressed into his wrists, making his tendons ache, and she canted her hips back with a growl until his tongue was pressed flat against her, rubbing her sensitive flesh against the roughness of his skin. Orsino couldn’t stop a grin from forming, and pressed a soft kiss to her before circling her nub with his tongue, dreaming of the sight of her face as he brought her deeper and deeper into desire. His Ice Commander would be pleasantly surprised if she thought Orsino wouldn’t have any new tricks - the middle-aged man had lost some of the inhibitions of the impetuous young boy. He waited until she had shuddered and bucked against his tongue before taking a deep breath and exhaling a tiny frosty wind from his lips, the minty blue magic curling against Meredith’s own damp curls and prickling along her sensitive skin. This time he did hear her cry of pleasure as she ground down on him even harder, her weight dropping on him like a stone, and her free hand coming down instinctively to clutch at his. Her wrapped her fingers in his, his fingertips chilly against her flushed skin, and blew once more against her clit before lapping at it with his frosty tongue. 

This time she screamed, and he felt her orgasm shake through her body as her sex pulsed against his lips, more of her sweet taste flooding his mouth. The thrill of making her cum raced along his skin, his tongue exploring and savoring every shudder of her flesh. Unbinding the Ice Commander was a unique release of its own, as her thighs softened around his face and he felt her back slump, her body relaxing. Meredith shifted slightly over his face, her sweaty skirts clinging to her legs and his face, before sliding her hands away from his and pulling her body up. Settling herself back down on his chest, she slowly began to pull her sticky dress away from his face, revealing more and more of his mussed hair and glowing eyes with every layer that she crushed back against her hips. His lips were swollen and gleaming, her scent reaching her nose with every one of his breaths. She shuddered, the sight of the elf between her legs bringing back memories of times she had forgotten, had worked hard to forget, of sunlight and laughter and full hearts. Her heart sank low in her chest with every deep pant, regretting and loving the way Orsino stared up at her. Meredith’s breath caught in her throat, and she felt the years descend on her heavily, and tears prick her eyes. She had to get out.

Hastily, she pushed herself up off of his frame and slid of the desk, shaking out her skirts and lacing her bodice back into place. She didn’t look at him, the elf that she had fought with and loved so much. “Where are you going?” he murmured quietly, and she felt his hand brush her side. “You didn’t wear any underwear.” His voice curled like a smile, and Meredith could feel a low, lingering pulse in her stomach. The younger Meredith, the stupider Meredith, would have let herself turn into his arms, ignore the magic that thrummed under his skin, let him soothe her fears. Meredith knew better now. 

“Don’t touch me,” she snapped, striding away another step and tossing her hair over her back. She could feel her resolve weakening, her bones singing for him, but she was no longer her own person and a Knight-Commander crushed magic under her thumb instead of under her thighs. Meredith drew in a deep breath, forcing her voice not to quaver, pushing down her emotions as she had grown so accustomed to doing. “This was a mistake.  _ You _ were a mistake.” 

It was a common insult to mages - freaks of nature, the Maker’s mistake - yelled from darkened doorways by people who were poor and hungry and scared. One that Orsino had heard many times and that no longer stung, but Meredith… Even in her fits of anger, in their fights over the years, not even in jest, had never called him that.  _ A mistake _ , she repeated in his mind - a memory of them laughing in the sun as children -  _ a mistake _ \- a Meredith terrified of magic watching him craft a tiny little dog out of magic ice -  _ a mistake _ \- Orsino, lanky and bruised, learning how to throw punches from Meredith to fend off bullies -  _ a mistake _ \- holding hands shyly in the dead of night after they both had snuck out, seeking solace -  _ a mistake _ \- playful dancing at a Winter’s Ball, a thick red dress swirling around his legs as they crushed each other in an awkward, passionate kiss -  _ a mistake _ . 

And Orsino, the most powerful mage in Kirkwall, the world-weary politician, the heartbroken romantic, cried as she walked away.


End file.
